


Burden

by SilentApocalypse



Series: when this is over [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: "Children Won the War" AU, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentApocalypse/pseuds/SilentApocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, but that isn't the end. For so long Noire clutched her talisman to make her brave enough to keep going. Now that the war is over she tries to force herself to stand on her own, but that's much easier said than done. Even though she knows there's nothing to be afraid of, just existing is almost more than she can bear at times. But when she feels like she's self-destructing, she finds the help of a friend in the last place she would have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burden

It was late at night, late enough that Noire knew she really should be asleep. Instead, she tucked herself into the corner of a distant, dusty room in the castle, idly fidgeting with an arrow. She had brought her quiver with her, ostensibly to do some maintenance so she’d have an explanation for being up at this hour, but really she just wanted to be alone somewhere open that didn’t make her feel as trapped as her room did.

Even though she knew in her head she was safe, the war was over, everything was _fine_ , she couldn’t quite make herself believe any of that. She bit her lip, one hand reaching for the talisman she had always kept with her during their long battles—but it wasn’t there.

She had buried the old talisman in the bottom of her dresser, telling herself that she needed to be strong on her own now. But that was so much easier said than done. For so long she had relied on the magic in that charm to make her brave. She could barely remember how to do it on her own.

Her mother had been obsessed with hexes and curses as far back as Noire could remember. But still, she had been surprisingly gentle when she gave her the talisman, telling her it would protect her when the day came that she had to stand and fight on her own.

Ever since then, she had held it tightly whenever she was frightened. She knew it probably wasn’t good for her but it made her strong enough to fight and at the time that was what had mattered. Now she couldn’t tell herself she really needed it but she had forgotten how to get a grip on herself without it.

It felt like the walls were closing in all around her and her chest hurt when she drew breath. She curled in tighter, willing herself to disappear altogether as she clenched her hands into fists, drew her knees in close, wrapped her arms around herself, and tucked her head to her chest. It was dark and everything was fuzzy on the edges and her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it echoing in her ears.

Time seemed to go away as she sat there, trying her best to sink into the corner. All she was aware of was her feeble gasps of air as she tried to will her lungs to move. Then, suddenly, a strong grip seized her quivering shoulder. Someone was talking to her but she didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge it, willing herself to turn invisible and fade away.

The hold on her turned gentle, the hand moving around her back to hug her shoulders. A warmth settled in at her side as whoever was there sat beside her, and slowly she drew her head up.

Severa’s sharp features were soft with concern. “Noire, let go of that arrow.” It was more of a plea than a demand, a rarity for the girl who always seemed so self-assured.

It shocked Noire enough that she listened, loosening her grip and taking the arrow with her free hand, and only then did she realize how much it hurt. Her fist had been wrapped around the arrowhead, which had gouged deep into her palm. Fresh streaks of blood ran down her arm, joining the dried ones already staining her pale skin. She had been so out of it she hadn’t even noticed the deep slash in her hand.

Severa took her limp wrist and frowned. “Put pressure on it,” she muttered as she dug in her pocket, producing a handkerchief that she wrapped around the wound. Shaky words of protest bubbled to Noire’s lips, but the other girl shushed them. “It’s too late to worry about it,” she said crossly. “Your blood is already everywhere, so just take it and be grateful.”

With her uninjured hand, Noire pressed the cloth to the bloody tear in her other palm. Pain shot up her arm and she bit her lip, trying to bear it. She was still trembling, her hands shaking against each other, and she was starting to feel dizzy.

“You have to breathe,” Severa whispered, her voice tight and hesitant. She didn’t just look worried now, but almost frightened.

Noire wasn’t used to this sort of behavior from her. She always seemed fearless, if anything annoyed by hardships and contemptuous of enemies. It just seemed silly for her to be afraid in a quiet room of the castle in the middle of the night after Noire had done something stupid again, but here they were.

Her chest still felt heavy, breaths coming far too short, but she tried, for the sake of quelling that unusual fright in Severa’s expression, to hold and lengthen her quivering breaths. But it all hurt and she was being a burden on everyone else _again_ and then she was crying, burying her face in the other girl’s shoulder as heavy sobs tore through her.

Severa stiffened, but she didn’t push her away. “There’s nothing to cry about,” she said, steady and matter-of-fact but not disdainful, not now.

“I know,” Noire whispered, and she wasn’t just saying that, she really did know. But still she couldn’t make the tears stop. Her body felt boneless and everything was so cold. It was all faint, so faint, and whether that was from anemia or tiredness or something else entirely she wasn’t sure.

“Is there… um… well, anything I can do to help?”

Noire looked up, sniffling, to find Severa looking firmly out of her depth, but still determined. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was nothing but a croak as she tried to stifle a fresh sob.

She squeezed her shoulder. “Hey. Look at me. Don’t say you’re sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

For a few seconds, Noire just tried to calm her crying a little. “Why are you being so nice?” she finally asked.

“I’m not mean _all_ the time,” she protested, sighing when the other girl stiffened again. “Well, you know, I can’t really be mad at you, can I? I mean, look at yourself. You were sitting here in the dark hyperventilating and gripping an arrowhead right into your palm. Anyone would be worried, right?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make anyone worry.” She swallowed thickly, wanting nothing more than for this all to be over.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Didn’t I tell you not to apologize to me?” She frowned. “You’ve helped me out so many times. Let me help you for a change, yeah?”

Noire couldn’t help but let a shocked, almost hysterical laugh spill out. “Everyone always spent so much time protecting _me_ ,” she protested. “I almost never even got hurt.”

Severa sighed as she ran a hand through her hair, hanging long out of her usual twintails. “Gods, Noire, you’re an archer. If an enemy got to you at anything but range, that means the rest of us did something wrong. Your sniping saved us all more times than we’d like to admit.” She frowned. “Maybe we _should_ have admitted it more often.”

“But I wasn’t really any more useful than anyone else, and the rest of you were always doing so much more than me.”

“Look, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t both say you’re useless because you weren’t in the thick of battle and say everyone’s jobs are important. It doesn’t make sense.” She rolled her shoulders, cracking them as she searched for something to say. “I’m really not good at this sort of stuff. I wouldn’t be doing this for most of the others, you know? But you’ve seemed so sad recently, Noire, and you’re the type of person who won’t just _tell_ someone when you need something. So even if I’m not really good for it, I’m going to do what I can to take care of you.”

She stood up, hauling Noire to her feet. “We’re going to the infirmary. That wound is going to get infected if you just try to ignore it.”

“But it’s late at night,” she said, her voice faltering. Come to think of it, she wondered what in the world Severa had been doing wandering the castle. But it seemed rude to bring it up. Still, she didn’t want to drag anyone else out of bed, especially when so many of them seemed to be sleeping so poorly as of late, judging by the dark circles under their eyes.

Though her expression was annoyed, Severa said, “All right, then. I’ll take care of it and then when everyone gets up we can have Brady look at it. Is that better?”

They all had enough rudimentary first aid knowledge to take care of something like this, but Noire hadn’t expected her to offer. Surprised, she just nodded, and with that settled they went off. She was unsteady on her feet, leaning into the other girl’s shoulders, and smiled faintly at Severa’s muttering complaints.

“Sit,” she barked as they arrived at the infirmary, and Noire perched on the edge of a cot as Severa whirled around the room, gathering supplies to take care of the wound: a bowl of water and a washcloth, disinfectant, a needle and thread, and a bandage.

The handkerchief was soaked through. Severa’s nose wrinkled up as she tossed it aside, quickly using a clean cloth to wipe both wet and dried blood from the other girl’s arm. Then came the disinfectant, which stung more than Noire would have liked to admit. Stitches came next. “You’d better not complain,” she mumbled defensively. She didn’t exactly have the world’s steadiest hands and this wasn’t quite her forte.

“I know you’re doing your best,” Noire said gently, and she bit her lip hard and willed herself not to whimper as Severa started to close up the cut. Before long it was blessedly done, and then the bandage was wrapped snugly around her treated wound.

She leaned back to lie on the cot, too tired to sit up straight, and pulled the sheet around her. It did little to chase away the chill. After a moment, she heard that ever-present sigh of Severa’s as several blankets were thrown at her.

“You’re always cold” was her terse explanation, but even though her distant attitude was back a bit of concern still stayed in her eyes. After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed another blanket and threw it on one of the empty cots.

“I’ll stay here. The infirmary was empty before now and if you need something, like if the stitches pull open or whatever, there should really be someone here with you.” She scrambled to further justify her decision. “And besides, I’m tired. It’s not like I’m just doing this because I’m worried about you.”

A smile rose to Noire’s bloodless lips. “All right,” she whispered back, snuggling under her layers of blankets. For once, she was finally warm. “Thank you, Severa.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied dismissively, but she was glad to be able to help and they both knew it. After a moment of hesitation, she added, “You’re welcome.”

For the first time in a very long time, Noire could breathe easily as settled down to go to sleep. _Everyone’s scared sometimes_ , she told herself as she started to drift off. _Even Severa. So it’s okay. I have people I can count on when I don’t feel like I can do this alone._

_I think… I’m going to be all right, Mom._


End file.
